


Play the Role Well

by the_authors_exploits



Series: Unwhole [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awakening, BECAUSE WE DONT HAVE ENOUGH CATATONIC JASON OK??, Fluff, Gen, Kinda, Post-Incident, Pre-Awakening, Sick Fic, UnwholeVerse, angsty fluff, catatonic jason, im sleep deprived i think, ish, post!I&pre!A&A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason is sick and Tim wonders when he became the big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be real, guys, my Unwhole!Verse is just an excuse to write weak/catatonic/hurt/sick/cuddly/outofcharacter!Jason

Tim wakes up to Jason looming overhead, a shadowed outline against the darkness of night. His arms are tucked delicately against his chest and his wide shoulders are hunkered down, all as if to hold himself together, and Tim waits patiently; he knows Jason sometimes needs time to gather his thoughts or to execute an action. Sometimes Jason just needs a moment to remember to move. So Tim waits. He had tried helping Jason out before in these lapses, but that resulted in a screeching, kicking Jason Todd and many bruises to Tim’s body. Jason still doesn’t much like touch even when he’s catatonic; he still prefers to initiate it, initiate a hug from Dick or a cuddle from Bruce. Since the incident these have become more common, but it still has to be on Jason’s terms. So Tim waits.

Four minutes and thirty-three seconds later, Jason tentatively leans against the mattress and Tim takes that as his cue to shift over and lift the covers in invitation. Jason still hesitates for just a moment before crawling beneath the warm covers and curling to face the third Wayne boy; Jason is still a cautious teenager, probably more so than ever before. Tim figures it’s a safe move to put an arm over the older boy, and he does so with only a minor growl from Jason that settles into a contented sigh soon enough. Tim reasons that the cause of Jason’s visit has something to do with either his insomnia or a nightmare, both equally unpleasant; but Jason seems happy to finally fall or merrily return to sleep. As they settle down for the rest of the night, the eldest lets out a whine and burrows closer to Tim.

And that’s when Tim notices that something is wrong.

Because while Jason initiates more affection, he does not appreciate cuddles from Tim. Damian hypothesizes this is so because the first time Jason tried to nuzzle Tim after the incident, Tim went so stiff with shock he was unresponsive to reciprocate the affection; so now Jason goes to those who actually hold him, ie Dick and Bruce.

(It’s, of course, not Tim’s fault he was so shocked; Jason had always been jealous of Tim when Tim had arrived at the Manor. No longer was Jason the youngest who could throw a tantrum and get the attention he wanted. Now he had to share with Tim. And of course there was the fact that Tim was remarkably smart, so Jason could only view him as a danger to his own position in the family; a better child inadvertently meant Jason was no longer needed, or so Tim assumed was the other’s thought process. With this jealousy came rivalry and distance between the second Robin and third, so physical affection from Jason was rare if none existent.)

But now for Jason to willingly nuzzle closer is an indicator that something is wrong; that, and the heat steaming from his back where Tim’s hand rests. It’s a cold night and Jason must have been out from beneath any sort of warm covers for a while; a tank top and sweats aren’t enough to battle the chill. In all logic, Jason should be cold. But he is not. He is warm and yet he shivers. Tim shuts his eyes tight in hopes of gaining the strength to deal with a sick Jason; he will need patience and acceptance that he has been awoken at four in the morning to deal with this.

Dick is in Bludhaven and won’t be back until Friday night, three days from today, working on a police case and doing his own nightly routine; Bruce is on patrol and will be unavailable until further notice (Scarecrow and Killer Croc are still lose in the city since last Wednesday). Tim knows his duties: watch after Jason, keep all knives and sharp objects away from Damian, help Alfred around the house when possible, and make sure everyone’s homework gets completed. Watching after Jason and Damian is tiring enough as it is without adding illness to the mix. Well, they are his duties now and he’s always been serious about completing his duties.

Tim goes up on his elbow, brushes some hair from Jason’s face, and tries to ignore the white strip that falls over his forehead. “Jay, are you sick?”

The older boy doesn’t say anything; Tim didn’t expect him to.

He checks the other’s temperature to his own; yes, Jason has a fever. He will need medicine and fluids and rest; first things first is medicine. So Tim goes to climb over Jason to get the medicine from the medicine cabinet in the hallway bathroom; Jason bats at him for disturbing his rest, but Tim extricates himself without any more abuse and scampers off to the bathroom. The light he clicks on his blinding and he squints as he shuffles around in the medicine cabinet. He finds Tylenol at the back, reads the instructions carefully, and hurries back to his room after shutting off the light. He checks in on Damian quickly and finds the boy clutching Titus like the animal is a plush toy; he grins and returns to Jason.

Tim keeps a glass of water on the nightstand that he changes out every night before going to bed; he puts the Tylenol bottle besides the glass and sits on the edge of the bed. He clicks on his bedside lamp which causes Jason to moan in aggravation. One breath, two breath, three and Tim feels ready to coax Jason into a sitting position. First thing to do is tug the blanket from the red head’s death grip; Dick showed Tim pointers in how to deal with Jason and a major lesson was how to get Jason up when he didn’t want to.

“He hates to be poked; so just keep poking him. He’ll do most of the work for you, squirming and flailing and stuff. You just gotta rile him up some and then run like hell.” Dick had grinned at Tim’s horrified look. “Or rile him up and when he tries to strangle you tell him breakfast is ready; he’ll forget about you waking him in a little bit.”

That had been before the incident, but the poking still helped. So Tim jabs Jason in the shoulder; the hand relaxes long enough for Tim to put his Red Robin reflexes to good use and snatch the comforter away. Jason glares at him over his shoulder; it’s not as fierce as before, though Tim knows he is still very capable of eviscerating Tim. So Tim ignores the glare and shakes the pill bottle.

“Sit up, Jase; you need to take some medicine.”

Jason doesn’t like medication. But he must be feeling like crap because his eyes stay fixated on the bottle and he rolls onto his back; he goes no further than that. Tim bites back a sigh, puts the bottle down again, and fits his hands under Jason’s pits, readying to bodily pull the other into a sitting position. When did he ever become the big brother?

Probably somewhere between the warehouse and the crowbar; or maybe it was the crowbar and the bomb. It very well could have been between the bomb and Batman rescuing him, because Batman found Jason beneath a sheet of roofing tin that had been stored in the warehouse as if he had used it to shield him from the bomb’s blast. That had to indicate Jason had still been aware before the bomb went off. Well, the tin had done its job well, allowing Jason to be breathing today with only minor third degree burns; but Jason had never been the same. The Joker had done a number on Bluejay, beating him to near death with a damn crowbar before leaving him locked in the warehouse with a bomb; Jason had been fifteen.

Now he was sixteen and scarred, maybe for life. His skin was pinkish where the burns had been, and he really didn’t like to be touched in those places. (But it was hard when the boy was a walking scarred meat suit; everywhere, it seemed, he was pink with raw skin of varying shades.) Sure, if someone’s arms were to cover those scars during a hugging session, he tolerated it, but a hand to get his attention that just grazed the new skin set him off. Stiffness would set in and he’d go unresponsive for hours. The bruises and broken bones had healed far better than the burns and his limp was barely even noticeable; but he was broken in more than body.

The psychologist Leslie had referred to them to had said he was probably suffering from immense PTSD mixed in with catatonia. So they took him home and made sure at least one person was always in charge of watching him; Bruce had set up security measures to ensure Jason couldn’t wander into the Cave at any point in time, and Dick had started coming home more often. Damian still called Jason names, but Tim felt it was more out of frustrated confusion than actually animosity towards their brother. The youngest Robin just couldn’t quite comprehend why Jason had become so unresponsive, despite everyone having tried to explain it to Damian in the simplest of terms; Tim chalked his confusion up to Damian’s childhood with Talia. A person should not be weak and if they were they were disposed of, end of discussion.

Jason actually swallows the pills rather easily, with only minor coaxing on Tim’s side and hardly any spilled water. For that, Tim is grateful. He gets Jason lying down once more and heaps any extra blankets over him before crawling into the bed as well. He manages to get an arm around Jason again and Jason ever so gently grips his small wrist. Tim keeps a loose grip on the other boy and waits until he falls asleep before following.

The morning will bring more troubling issues to conquer, but Tim would like to worry about those later. For now, he will sleep with Jason breathing softly beneath his arm.

The clock reads out four thirty-two.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning is only a little bit hectic, not so busy as Tim had thought it would be.

He gets up with his alarm clock, finding Jason drooling on his shoulder, and hurriedly changes into a clean shirt before leaving Jason to sleep in some more; he tucks the blankets around the still form before going to rouse the demon child. Damian is not as difficult as Jason to get up; Tim needs to only turn the light on, tug at the covers some, and inform the boy that it is morning. Damian sits up, his hair childishly unruly, and rubs at his eyes in a very un-Damianesque manner before shouting at Tim to “remove your person from my room promptly, Drake!”.

Tim leaves Damian to get dressed; on his way downstairs to help Alfred with breakfast, he passes his room to find the door ajar. He knows he shut it so he pokes his head in to find Titus, tongue lolling, staring at the unmovable lump in the bed; Tim clicks his tongue and hurries in to drag the dog away before it can pounce and wake Jason. After shoving the dog out he takes the time to check on his brother once more; Jason is still snoozing peacefully, his chest rising and falling gently, and Tim takes a moment to check his temperature. Still higher than should be. Tim will have to have Alfred call him out of school so he can care for Jason.

He hurries downstairs to find Alfred in the kitchen scrambling eggs and bacon, and Tim makes himself useful when the toast pops out of the toaster.

“Good morning, Master Timothy,” is Alfred’s jovial greeting. “I hope you slept well.”

Tim shrugs, knife gliding over the crusted bread. “Jason is sick; I think maybe I should stay home. You know how he can get…”

Alfred hums. “Yes, well, if that is what you wish, young master. Did you complete your homework?”

“Yeah; it’s in my room. Why?”

Alfred turns with a twinkle in his eye. “I was thinking perhaps I could drop your homework off and bring back class notes with tonight’s assignment; if you wish?”

Tim, good naturedly, groans. “But, Alfred!”

The butler chuckles and returns to the stove.

Tim sets the plate of now buttered toast aside. “Did Bruce come back yet?”

“He arrived sometime early morning, but I believe he went out after a few hours rest.”

Damian comes in before any other questions can be asked and he takes a seat on a stool by the counter; he squints around the room, his signature questioning gaze. “Todd is not present.”

Alfred is plating two plates with a nice heaping of eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice; Tim takes a seat at the counter as well.

“Jason’s sick; he has a fever, so I’m letting him sleep in.”

“Master Damian,” Alfred cuts in before Damian can respond. “You will be leaving for school within the hour; please make sure you are ready.”

Damian scowls at his plate—the bacon is arranged to make a smile, while the eggs are used for hair, and the small pieces of toast provide eyes—but does not go against Alfred; all Waynes know better than to talk back to the elderly butler.

Breakfast is a silent affair and, like Alfred said, within the hour Damian is in the Rolls Royce with his school bag at his feet and Alfred in the driver’s seat. Tim waves them away and goes back inside to check on Jason again; he finds him at the top of the stairs. His arms are, once more, folded against his chest and his shoulders are curled downward. Tim approaches cautiously, in case Jason is in one of his more vacant moments; Tim doesn’t want to startle him.

“Morning, Jase. Sleep well?”

Teal blue eyes stay riveted on the carpeted stairway; Tim comes to stand three steps below the other and holds out his hand invitingly.

“Want some breakfast? Alfred made eggs and bacon; I can make you sausage if you’d rather that. And we’ve got toast and jam. Bruce is out right now, but I bet he’ll be back by noon. He has a meeting at three at Wayne Industries.” Tim blabbers until Jason takes the offered hand; his inane chatter has become almost routine now. It seems to help root Jason to the present and he has faster reaction times when someone is speaking to him.

Tim leads him into the kitchen and sits him at the counter, in the seat Damian had used. It’s the easiest one to get in and out of, considering it’s situated at the end of the counter. Tim leaves Jason there, quickly filling a glass halfway with apple juice—Jason once drank orange juice and then got the flu; he’s hated OJ since—and plops a straw in it. He sits it in front of Jason to keep him busy while they wait for the food to warm up. Tim isn’t sure if Jason would rather the sausage or not, so he just gives him bacon to start with; if Jason doesn’t it eat, then Tim will make sausage.

Tim sets the plate before the other boy and places the fork in Jason’s hand; he holds his breath. Sometimes, Jason remembers how to use utensils; other times, he sits listlessly until someone notices and feeds him. Today, he seems to be the former, and he chews the food mechanically; Tim takes a grateful breath of air. While he eats, Tim retrieves more effective medicine for him to take. A cold syrup, since he seems to have a runny nose today; that is not going to be fun to take care of. Tim tries not to think about that; instead, he focuses on how he’s going to convince Jason to ingest the yucky liquid.

He debates between mixing it with something and just battling Jason to swallow. On one hand, Jason may refuse the mixed drink which would then waste the juice and the medicine; on the other, Jason may make a mess when refusing the little cup of syrup. Tim settles on trying to outsmart Jason; it’s going to be a challenge, but probably far less messier or wasteful than the other options. He takes the straw from Jason’s cup and sticks it in the measuring cup; he sucks the liquid into the straw, and when it touches his tongue he uses his finger to cover the end. The liquid stays suctioned in the straw and Tim feels the onset feeling of accomplishment; but he is far from succeeding yet.

All this preparation takes place on the opposite side of the kitchen, away from Jason, and with Tim’s back hiding what he was doing. Jason may be catatonic, but he is not stupid. Now, Tim crosses the kitchen with the straw in his hand and his face neutral.

“Open up, Jayjay.”

Jason chews slowly, stares at the drinking contraption in Tim’s hands, and his eyes narrow.

“Come on, it’s good for you!”

He, thankfully, swallows before dutifully opening his mouth and Tim releases the cough syrup. He quickly uses his free hand to shut Jason’s jaw.

“Swallow.” He orders in his best impersonation of Batman’s voice.

Jason makes a face; his eyes scrunch up, his nose wrinkles, and his brows dip downwards. But he swallows and quickly goes for his apple juice; Tim returns the straw to it, a grin in place. That wasn’t so bad.

After Jason’s breakfast, Tim sets them up in the TV room at the back of the house. He lets Titus in when the dog barks and Titus curls by Jason’s side on the floor; Jason has opted to sit on the carpet with a book in his hands. (He’s never actually read before. At least, Tim doesn’t think he does. He mostly just sits and turns the pages or stares at the wall; sometimes, if he’s in a very good mood, Dick can get him to do a puzzle.) Tim turns the TV on, all the same, and settles on Spongebob. He settles into the couch with his latop in his lap, cellphone nearby, and his backpack waiting for Alfred’s return with school work.

Alfred returns shortly and Tim starts on his school work; Jason begins wandering the house and Tim keeps an ear out for the boy’s shuffling gait. They, thankfully, don’t have to worry about him leaving the house—he hasn’t left by his own volition since the incident—and he doesn’t like to wander an empty floor, so going upstairs isn’t an option. Plus, Titus likes to keep tabs on the boy for them; an informative bark will alert them to problems.

Alfred goes about his duties and Tim works and Jason wanders. Bruce returns home, as predicated, shortly after noon; he comes through the cave entrance to find Jason standing three feet away. The boy is absently scratching at his wrist while staring at the piano in the corner of the room; Bruce shuts the grandfather clock tightly and approaches his second son.

“Hello, Jason.”

The voice is soft and warm; Jason thinks he should know it. He should know it. Bruce? He thinks it’s Bruce, but everything is hazy and fuzzy, but the face clears and it looks like Bruce. He wants to smile, but his face doesn’t cooperate and he’s back in a daze.

Bruce smiles; he’s long since stopped getting excited at the little moments of clarity Jason shows, a simple twitch of his lips and his eyes light up from their dull gaze. It doesn’t last. “How are you today, Jason?” He knows the boy won’t answer. “I was out around Gotham today; it’s rather sunny. Maybe you and your brothers could go for a walk after school.” He holds an arm out inviting the boy to come closer and he accepts, leans his full body weight against the father figure.

Jason is shivering some and he sniffles; his face is ruddy, Bruce takes note.

“Hmm, come on; I think I hear the television on. Were you watching something, Jason?” He guides the boy out of the room; Titus is waiting just outside of the room and follows them back to the TV room. Bruce is slightly shocked to find Tim lounging on the couch. “Tim? What are you doing home?”

Tim looks up. “Jason has a fever; maybe a cold, he’s got a runny nose.”

Jason blinks at Tim and meanders over to try and squeeze between the small boy and the arm of the couch; Bruce bites his tongue to keep from laughing at the scene. Tim squirms to make room for Jason’s bulk, but he still winds up half on top of Tim. Tim huffs and abandons his homework; he regards his guardian. Bruce looks tired; dark circles swallow his red eyes.

“Catch anything?”

“We got Scarecrow back.”

Tim nods. “That’s good; you gonna get some sleep tonight?”

Bruce starts to leave. “Killer Croc is still out.”

Tim frowns. “You need sleep too, Bruce!”

If Bruce hears him, he makes no indication and Tim huffs; he can’t move, what with Jason practically using him as a body pillow, so he settles down to watch Spongebob—homework be damned! Bruce leaves for his meeting and Tim’s arm starts to fall asleep, but Jason seems to have the same idea. His blinking slows until his eyelids close fully and he grows heavy upon Tim. Tim huffs, again, and resigns himself to his fate.

Thankfully, his phone buzzes to distract him and he contorts his toes to grab it from the coffee table and drag it to his hand; he checks his messages.

_Stephanie: sup_

Tim grins and types a quick reply.

_Tim: Suffocating, u_

_Stephanie: harhar. Thinking about ditching class_

_Tim: I am serious; j is using me as a mattress!_

_Tim: &dont skip class; bad steph_

Jason starts, eyes blinking quickly around the room, before flopping back against Tim and dropping to sleep again. A reflex, perhaps. Tim isn’t sure; he realizes maybe he should message Dick about Jason being sick. After Stephanie.

_Stephanie: y is j using u as a mattress?_

_Tim: idk, there’s a perfectly good couch on the other side of the room_

_Stephanie: loll_

_Stephanie: I slipped out the window IM HOME FREE_

_Tim: shame on u!_

_Stephanie: I want waffles_

_Tim: woowwwww no way_

_Stephanie: Sarcasm! I love it!_

They chat some more until Jason starts again and bolts for the bathroom; Tim lets Stephanie go when he hears retching. When he arrives, Titus has barked three times and Alfred is already present with a wet cloth that he hands off to Tim.

“Think it’s the flu?”

“No, Master Timothy; I believe it might have been a nightmare.”

He cringes and kneels by Jason; he gently presses the cool cloth against Jason’s neck and waits for the retching to end. A couple minutes later, Jason leans away from the toilet and his face is so pathetically miserable Tim has a hard time not laughing. Instead, he wipes Jason’s mouth gently, has him rinse with mouthwash found under the sink, and bring him back to the living room. Jason is lethargic and Tim lets him latch onto him again. At least he still has his phone… Speaking of which…

_Tim: J’s sick; just a cold we think_

It takes Dick a while to respond and by the time he does Tim has found a movie to watch instead of Spongebob.

_Dick: he ok?_

_Tim: yeah, he’s fine_

_Tim: might’ve had a nightmare, puked_

_Dick: ahhh… ok_

_Dick: Ill come home early, tomorrow_

_Tim: k. bruce hasn’t got much sleep_

_Dick: kc &sc?_

_Tim: yeah; sc in custody  
_

The TV fritzes and a news anchor comes on.

“We’re sorry to interrupt your scheduled broadcasting, but we bring you an urgent news bulletin: The Joker has escaped Arkham! I repeat, the Joker has escaped!”

Tim feels drained; the full body cast, courtesy of the Batclan’s wrath after the incident, had only just come off the week before. And already Joker was up to no good. He turns to check Jason’s reaction to the name and the face that is now plastered on the TV; other than a narrowed, dangerous glare, Jason seems fine. For safety reasons, Tim still returns to Spongebob. He doesn’t want something to harm Jason more, especially if it could be avoidable.

_Tim: joke too_

_Dick: dangit, im coming home tonight_

_Dick: hows j? he ok?_

_Tim: yup; glared_

_Dick: same old j_

The chat until Damian comes home from school. He comes into the room to find Jason lying on his stomach on the floor and Tim hanging upside down on the couch; Jason is playing with Titus and Tim is alternating between the TV and watching the pair on the floor. Damian shoves at Tim as he passes and flops on the other couch.

“You are watching The Fifth Element.”

“Yeah.”

“It is ridiculous.”

“It’s funny.”

“Shut up, Drake; it is not funny, it is lacking considerably.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Whatever; you got homework?”

“Tt, you obviously did not complete yours.”

“So?”

“Therefore, I do not need to complete mine; you have not set an appropriate example as my so called ‘big brother’.”

Yeah, Tim really wonders when he became the big brother to one, let alone two, siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta reader so any mistakes found are my own; I'm going to fix the mistakes in the first chapter shortly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late and absolute shit and I am so sorry, BUT I am thinking about doing a very short epilogue just for the hell of it.... I dunno when or even if it'll happen, but I hope so!

Dick arrives shortly before dinner and Jason greets him at the door with a tight hug; in the background, Damian is heard screeching curses incoherently, with Tim shouting a very monosyllabic sentence: _“LEMME GO, LEMME GO, LEMME GO”._ Dick sighs deeply and ruffles Jason’s hair.

“Hey, you doing ok? Sounds like something’s going down back there; we should go separate them.”

Jason takes hold of Dick’s hand and drags him down the hall before Dick can do so; Dick just stumbles after his brother and when they reach the back living room, Jason shoves Dick through the door. On the floor, hidden half beneath the coffee table, is the pile of flailing limbs that is Damian and Tim. Damian is pulling at Tim’s hair while trying to grab at something held in Tim’s hand; Tim is trying to wiggle away from the demon spawn, but their awkward place beneath the coffee table (“How…?”) and Damian’s weight atop him is keeping him from getting very far.

“What is going on here?” Dick looks over his shoulder to Jason, who angrily points at the thing in Tim’s hand. Dick looks closer to see it’s the remote. He takes three steps forward and snatches the device from his younger brother, to cries of no from both children. “Honestly, a remote? A remote? You are tearing each other apart over the remote.” He lobes the remote toward Jason and kneels on the floor; he sweeps Damian and Tim into a tight hug. “And not even a hug for your older brother? I am hurt, truly hurt!”

“Let go, Grayson!”

“Dick, let go, no, why did you give it to Jason? We’re gonna be watching Count’s Kustoms all night now, no!”

Both try to squirm away, but Dick doesn’t let them go. “Nope, you both are going to cuddle with me. I haven’t been home in weeks!”

Damian huffs a sigh and glares at Jason over Dick’s shoulder; Jason merrily gnaws on his nail and flips through the channels on the TV. “You were home the Sunday before last, Grayson; release me.”

“Noooo, Dami!”                                                        

Eventually, though, Dick does let them go; he gave both a stern look. “Homework?”

“Drake did not complete his.”

“Neither did Damian.”

“Because Drake did not set a good example.”

Jason huffs in the background, a sort of laugh, having curled on the couch and clutching the remote possessively.

“Tim, why didn’t you complete your homework?”

The third robin points at the red head on the couch. “Jason was sick; I was taking care of him!”

“He was watching television when I came home.”

Tim glares at Damian and Dick turns to give Jason a pitying glance.

“I am so sorry you had to deal with these two all day, Jaybaby. Especially when you were sick! How are you doing, hm? You feeling better, Jay?”

Jason only stares and blinks but Dick smiles.

“Come here, gimme a hug!”

Jason knows what that word means; he may be mentally unstable, catatonic, and have PTSD, but he knows that hugging means dealing with a clingy Richard Grayson. He wisely makes a quick exit for the kitchen where Alfred is cooking dinner.

Later that night, Nightwing is suiting up to go out with Batman on patrol; Robin and Red Robin will be benched for the nightly patrol, seeing as how the Joker is loose. Batman won’t be taking any chances with his kids tonight. So while Dick is trying to fit into his spandex, Damian sits at the batcomputer.

“Damian, I told you to do your homework.”

Damian doesn’t move and Bruce knows why; the boy is worried about his family’s safety with a lunatic running amuck. He knows what the madman is capable of; Joker broke Jason down into a withered husk. So Damian is worried.

“Oracle will be guiding us and we’ll be back before one.” Bruce gives a soft kiss to the boy’s head and pushes him towards the stairs. “Now go do your homework with Tim.”

“Yes, father…”

Upstairs in the dining room, Tim is at the table tapping his pencil to the math worksheet. Damian can hear Titus yapping in the library where he assumes Jason is; Damian sits by Tim and starts his own homework.

Jason comes in and out, wandering about the house. Occasionally, one of the Robins will try and engage him—“Want a snack, Jay?”, “How are you?”, “Come sit for a second, Jay, you’ve been walking non-stop all night”, “I can turn the television on, if you so desire it, Todd”—but he wanders away again, Titus trotting at his heels.

It’s only eight-O-two when Tim gets the first text. The number is blocked, but the way the person texts is familiar, so Tim doesn’t ignore them.

_[unknown]: is tht paintedface clown free_   
_Tim: umm, joker. Yes_   
_Tim: who is this?_   
_[unknown]: well fuck_

Tim doesn’t deign that with a reply until nine-thirty and by that time Tim and Damian are playing video games—anything to keep them distracted from the dangers their father and brother are in—homework completed and Jason snoozing fitfully on the couch. Tim’s phone buzzes, but he ignores it until a loading screen comes between levels.

_[unknown]: hes annoying_   
_[unknown]: like, rlly fcking annoyin_   
_[unknown]: wheres jabberjay_

There’s only one person Tim knows who calls Jason that name.

_Tim: asleep on the couch_   
_Tim: what are you up to?_   
_[unknown]: oww, tht loks like tht hurt_   
_[unknown]: joker deserved it tho_   
_Tim: Are you with the joker right now??_   
_[unknown]: idk, mayb_   
_Tim: are you crazy??_   
_Tim: call B!!_   
_[unknown]: nope, u had all fun lst time_   
_[unknown]: our turn now_   
_Tim: …don’t kill him…_

“Drake, I have found you and blew you up with a grenade.”

Tim looks up from his phone to see his character on screen dead, blown to bits. So much for smashing Damian at CoD… He tosses his controller aside in exchange for the remote, switching on the news.

“Roy and Kori are in town.”

Damian looks up. “Pardon?”

“Roy and Kori are in town; I think I’m texting Roy right now.”

Damian raises a brow, but doesn’t speak and retreats to his room to read. Tim stays tuned to the news for anything on the Joker, and keeps an eye on Jason; his fever seems to have spiked again and he’s incredibly restless on the couch.

By eleven-thirty, Alfred informs Tim that Damian is asleep and that he will be in the Cave if the boys need anything. Tim thanks him; he keeps his cellphone close. Jason wakes up at one point, sometime between the news anchor talking about the weather for tomorrow and rising gas prices. Tim watches him stare vacantly at the screen before turning to regard the presence in the room.

“Hey, Jayjay; guess who’s in town?”

Jason leaves his couch to flop against Tim’s side and Tim does his best to calm the shakes in Jason’s limbs; a soft brush of fingers here, a gentle squeeze there, intricate circles against his back…

“Roy and Kori. Maybe they’ll stop by, hm? Maybe we can get them for breakfast tomorrow, yeah? That’d be n—”

“We have a breaking news bulletin! The Joker has been dropped at Arkham’s doorstep, and the reports coming in are that he’ll need another body cast and intensive physical therapy! Oh my…”

Tim feels Jason relax against him and he lets out a sigh, grinning. His phone buzzes.

_[unknown]: ur welcome  
[unknown]: dont tell bigman, he scares me_


	4. Chapter 4

Someone is shaking his mattress, rocking it from the edge, and he groans; he doesn’t want to leave the beautiful realm of sleep. He had been having a good dream, too! He pushes his face into the pillow, willing whoever it is to leave him alone.

“Come on, Jay, up.”

Why the fuck is the Replacement in his room, waking him up? Normally, it would be Alfred or Bruce or Dick; but never Tim…

“Alfred is making pancakes; you like pancakes, come on, up!”

There’s a sharp jab to Jason’s back, so Jason pulls his pillow out from beneath him, lobs it at his brother’s head, and turns back to burrow beneath the covers.

“Oof—Jason!”

“Go ‘way, replacement!”

That shuts him up and Jason settles further beneath the covers, allowing the mattress to take his full weight; he goes boneless, completely blissful, until it registers that Tim has not left and the air has grown thick. Jason squints over his shoulder; Tim is standing clutching the pillow to his chest, his eyes wide, and his jaw slack.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

The younger boy pales, before shooting out the door with a cry of “ _DICK”._ Jason shrugs and goes back to sleep.

It’s only a few moments later when his door is slammed open and Golden Boy is dragging him out from beneath the blankets.

“Jason, what’s wrong; are you okay; Tim isn’t making any sense, but he’s super freaked out, are you okay?”

He shoves Dick away. “’m fine; why won’t anyone let me sleep?”

Dick freezes, hands tightening their grip on Jason’s shoulders, and his jaw clicks shut; his eyes are wide, too, and he’s blinking furiously before he abruptly releases Jason and goes flying out of the room. Jason can hear him stomping downstairs, calling out alternatively for Tim and Bruce; Jason hopes they’ll leave him alone…

But, of course, they don’t and Bruce is his next visitor; the door slowly creaks open and Jason opens one eye to glare at his father figure.

“I’m not getting out of bed and you can’t make me.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything; he stands at the door, clutches the brass handle, and then slowly nods. “Alright. You can sleep in then…”

“Good; ‘cause I am. Not getting up. F’r while…” He lifts his head barely from the pillow. “Why do I feel like crap?”

There is no scowl or reprimand for his language; his whole family is acting odd… “You’ve been sick, Jason.”

He frowns. “Oh. I don’t remember.” He feels like there’s a double entendre in Bruce’s statement of him being sick, but he’s too tired to figure it out.

Bruce nods, swallows, nods again; he releases the handle and takes two long strides to be at Jason’s side. He bends at the waist, cards a hand quickly through Jason’s auburn hair, and presses a kiss to Jason’s forehead. Jason scowls at the affection.

“Rest, Jaybird; we’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

Jason nods and tells himself he lets Bruce tuck him in because he’s too tired to do it himself. He falls asleep to another kiss and a gentle touch to his shoulder.

Bruce shuts the door quietly and needs a moment to gather his wits; he hasn’t heard Jason’s voice in…what feels like ages… He straightens his jacket eventually and returns to the breakfast table. His boys look at him anxiously, even Damian appears rather upset at the two others’ distress, but he takes a seat quietly and unfolds the napkin slowly. He doesn’t trust his voice yet nor his emotions so he takes his time to compose himself further. Finally, he speaks.

“Jason spoke this morning.”

Tim looks incredibly lost and Dick has started crying; Damian schools his features, but Bruce has a feeling he’s a little confused at this change. Alfred discreetly dabs at his eyes in the background.

“However…”

Tim shoves a napkin at Dick. “We don’t know if this is going to last…”

Bruce nods. “Correct. So while we should hold onto hope we also need to be realistic about this. He said he was very tired so I’m letting him sleep in. We’ll see where he’s at when he wakes up and I’ll be scheduling an appointment with his psychologist and Leslie.”

Everyone nods in agreeance. Under the table, Tim pulls his phone out and types up a quick message.

_To [unknown]: jabberjay may have woken up; come for dinner  
From [unknown]: we’ll be there_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because hopeful endings are good ;)


End file.
